The Tribble Protection Decision
by E. Edwin
Summary: The Enterprise is diverted by the best type of distress call: one involving Klingons, tribbles, and the Prime Directive. A little story just for fun.
1. Chapter 1

Kirk picked up his PADD and stared blankly at the screen for what seemed like the hundredth time. The Enterprise had just completed a routine resupply mission to the mining colony on Sigma II-i, and he had finished his report hours ago. Probably somewhere in there he had mistaken boridium cells for borodian cells, but giving it a thorough read-through seemed rather tedious. He shifted in his chair, crossing his legs the other way, and drummed his fingers on the armrest. Maybe he could convince Spock to check the report; he would certainly notice any errors. Or Bones…

Kirk put his PADD down again and stared at the view screen. They were at warp, and would be for many hours to come. The hum of the bridge was starting to annoy him.

"How's that diagnostic coming, lieutenant?"

Chekov lazily spun his chair around and answered, "Eet finished a vhile back, ceptain. There vas a failing plasma coil on E deck."

Kirk sat up and punched the button on his armrest. "Scotty! We need to replace a plasma coil!"

Spock turned and raised an eyebrow at the captain's tone.

"Already done, sir." Came Scotty's cheerful reply.

Kirk sat back in his chair, defeated. He picked up his PADD and tried to get the fingerprints off with his shirt.

"Hey Spock, wanna read over my report?"

"I'm sure you are more than capable of composing a suitable document without my input."

Kirk glared at the back of the vulcan's head.

"Captain," said Uhura, re-arranging her earpiece. "I'm picking up a distress call."

With great effort, Kirk restrained his inward exclamation of "Yes!" and settled for a suitably grave "let's hear it."

Static resolved into garbled voices, and then into words. "ssysst- il soon lose power. If you can hear this message, we request assistance. Calling all ships in the area. We have sustained damage to our propulsive systems and will soon lose power. If-" Uhura shut off the recording. "It repeats."

"Location?"

"Sixty-four mark seven," said Sulu, his fingers already plotting a course.

"Take us there, Lieutenant," said Kirk, rising from his seat and pacing energetically.

"E.t.a. four minutes." Even Sulu's usually soothing baritone sounded more animated than usual.

"The signal is emanating from interstellar space," Spock mentioned, intent on the scanner, "which is consistent with the claims of malfunction."

"Anything interesting nearby?"

"A Class G star system, and an Class F star system. There's a class 17 nebula several parsecs away. Sigma II-i is the closest location of note."

"Type of ship?"

"Our scanners will be in range in," Spock glanced at a different screen, "eighty seconds."

Kirk frowned. The distress call was unusually light on specifics. The ship was not identified- the speaker was not identified… "Uhura, any other signals?"

"No sir." As she removed the earpiece her earrings shook, glittering in the light. "I also don't recognize the accent."

It was Kirk's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Couldn't it be a local dialect of something you're familiar with?"

"I don't think so. This is a species I haven't heard before."

"We have entered scanner range, Captain."

"Onscreen."

The starfield swiveled, coming to rest with a tiny object at its center, too dark and too far away to distinguish.

"Magnify."

The object enlarged, and dark as it still was, there was no mistaking the wide wings and the sloping head of-

"A Bird of Prey," muttered Chekov, puzzled.

"It wasn't a Klingon in the message." Uhura said firmly.

Kirk slapped a hand against the arm of his chair. "Shields up. Spock?"

"Their shields are down. Weapons are uncharged. The ship is operating on minimal power. Biosigns… 17, humanoid. Heavy damage to the propulsive systems. It seems to have been some time since the battle occurred," Spock frowned. "Approximately twenty Earth days."

Kirk sat in his chair, pondering the ship that was growing ever clearer on the view screen. "Hail them."

"This is the Federation Starship Enterprise, responding to your distress call. Please respond."

The cackle of static was the only response. Kirk listened for a moment. "Keep trying. Chekov, how far are we?"

"Tventy million kilometers and closing, sir."

"Let's keep our distance lieutenant."

"Aye sir."

The Enterprise held at a thousand kilometers, following the listing Bird of Prey. The static continued. Then-

"Enterprise. Thank you for responding." Relief was evident in the low female voice.

"This is Captain James Kirk. With whom am I speaking."

"My name is Antara Scolash." She paused, and continued uncertainty. "I have no official position; this vessel is manned by refugees of an invasion of our home planet, Dronkolo, by the ones who call themselves the Klingons." Her distaste for the final word was apparent, even through the transmission.

"Can you activate your viewscreen?"

"Just a moment."

A minute passed before the screen switched to the incoming transmission. A dark-eyed, dark-haired woman, her sleeves rolled up to the elbow and her pants rather dusty, was fiddling with a command console. Behind her, crewmembers were trickling onto the bridge in ones and twos. She looked up and said, "my apologies captain. These systems are still unfamiliar to me."

"Of course," said Kirk, sympathetically glancing at the Klingon characters on the command console. "Do any of your people require medical attention?"

"Not anymore," Scolash said harshly. Another crewmember caught her eye and gave her a sharp look. She recovered herself. "We've made use of the medical supplies on board to treat minor injuries."

"Alright," said Kirk. "I'll send a team over to see if we can help repair your engines and give you any supplies you need." He was about to punch the button for Scotty when Scolash interrupted him.

"It's not quite that simple, captain. As I mentioned, the Klingons invaded our homeworld- the fourth planet in the nearby nine-planet system. They lay waste to it, hunting creatures to extinction. This ship is in disrepair, yes, and we thank you for helping us repair it. But if we cannot repair the harm the Klingons have done to our planet then our efforts will be for nothing." The bridge of the Bird of Prey had filled with the refugees. Seventeen pairs of eyes stared at Kirk. "We have some specific ideas for restoring our planet that perhaps you can help us with," Scolash finished.

Kirk looked at Spock, about to volunteer his services, but Spock quietly said, "Captain, a word."

With a polite nod, Kirk said "just a moment Miss Scolash," and Uhura ended the transmission. He turned to Spock.

"Captain, these people are from Iota Geminorum IV, a planet orbiting the nearby Class G star. Almost two centuries ago, a Vulcan survey ship cataloged the planet as having intelligent life and projected them to reach warp capability sometime in the twenty-fifth century."

Kirk's stomach suddenly sank. The Prime Directive. It was perhaps the regulation that was the most difficult to follow.

"It is incredibly unlikely that this society has reached warp capability in so short a time. In fact, it is unusual that they would have developed enough to even pilot the Bird of Prey."

Kirk swore under his breath. "The Klingons have already violated the prime directive. We can't just sit back and watch their planet be destroyed- that would certainly interfere with this society's development. We have to help them correct what the Klingons have done."

"The invasion was a disaster, certainly, but not one that we caused or have any reason to correct," Spock reasoned. "The Prime Directive states that the Federation will not interfere with pre-warp societies in the case of a disaster."

"In the case of natural disasters, Spock, _natural_ disasters!"

Spock considered. "This requires further discussion."

Kirk closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes it does." He would call a meeting with the senior staff. "First we need more information. Spock, lead an away team to inspect their ship and learn what you can about the Klingon invasion." Spock raised an eyebrow. "I know what you're going to say," Kirk raised a hand to stop the incoming protest, "but these are refugees who have managed to steal and pilot a Klingon ship. They're dead in the water, and interacting with them cannot contaminate their homeworld."

Spock reflected. "Very well. However, I would prefer to go alone. It is still imperative that we minimize contamination, and I can attend to that necessity with more ease than the rest of the crew."

Kirk smiled. Spock could certainly be tight-lipped when he got the notion. "Alright. Uhura?"

The connection flickered back to life. "Miss Scolash. I have just a few questions for you."

"Go ahead Captain Kirk."

"What is the state of your culture's space technology?"

Surprise flitted across her face. "We've sent spacecraft to all the planets and moons in our solar system. We have a permanent settlement on the fifth planet as well as the largest moon of the seventh." She stopped hesitantly, "is that the type of information you're looking for?"

"Yes it is," said Kirk, heart sinking. They clearly had not developed warp technology. "How does the technology you're familiar with compare to the systems aboard the Klingon vessel?"

"Well we've had some trouble," she began. "The main power generator was a puzzle at first. We've pretty much figured out how it works and concluded that it's beyond our ability to repair without replacement parts. The propulsion system is similar to one we use on our homeworld, although it's more efficient than designs I'm familiar with. There's another much faster propulsive system that I've never seen the likes of. We used it briefly, before the Klingons took it out."

"I see. The thing is, Miss Scolash, that our society tries not to interfere with planets that have not yet developed certain space technologies independently. As refugees on an advanced space vessel, we can perhaps help you, but there may be a limit to what we can do."

A frown darkened Scolash's face. "We appreciate your assistance, Captain. But I hope to discuss this further."

"As do I. My science officer, Mr. Spock, will beam over to your ship for an inspection."

"Alright, Captain."

"Kirk out."

The swish of the turbolift doors told Kirk that Spock was already on his way. Kirk caught the vulcan's eye. Spock gave almost imperceptible nod before the doors swished shut.

Kirk wearily settled into his chair, picking up his PADD. He pressed submit on the report. Typos seemed rather unimportant at the moment.

* * *

**A/N:** This just a little piece I did for pure fun of it and then re-purposed slightly for posting here. There are four chapters, this one's the longest. I'll post them over the next week as I get the last of the typos out.

I feel like this story in general is heavy on the dialogue, and I'm not sure if I like how it works. I'd be interested to hear what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Spock materialized onto the Bird of Prey's bridge in a torrent of humming energy beams. As they subsided, he blinked to adjust his eyes to the darkness of the dying Klingon warship. Klingons didn't care for light even when power was on, and their emergency lighting systems were unsurprisingly minimal. A burnt, stale smell clung to the ship and Klingon characters glowed menacingly from the consoles.

"Science Officer Spock?"

"Miss Scolash. Call me Spock."

Her eyes flicked to his ears for a split second. "Call me Antara. Where are you beginning your inspection?"

"Begin by reporting on the state of life support and rations. We shall continue to inspect the power and propulsive systems. In addition, the Captain has requested more detailed information about the Klingon invasion."

Antara nodded. "This way."

As they made their way aft through the neck of the Bird of Prey, Antara recounted the damage the ship had sustained during the flight from Dronkolo. Klingons had abandoned the ship on the planet surface, awaiting weapons systems upgrades from Kronos. The small crew had snuck aboard and spent several hours studying the systems before attempting to leave the planet. They were pursued by three Klingon cruisers, but managed to go to warp briefly before their propulsive systems were taken offline by superior enemy fire. Two disruptor hits to the right nacelle were sufficient to bring them out of warp, and further canon fire completely destroyed the left nacelle and left most primary systems damaged. Five of the crew were killed, seven more injured.

Spock noticed that Antara was remarkably effective in communicating detailed descriptions about the damage despite being unfamiliar with most of the vocabulary associated with twenty-third century space technology. She used concise phrases to refer to parts of the ship, phrases that demonstrated a working knowledge of the ship's systems. The crew they encountered seemed to display similar competence. Each was dressed in battered clothes, but nonetheless exuded an air of defiant determination. They silently nodded to Antara and Spock, and returned to their work: scavenging broken systems for parts, repairing equipment, and inspecting supplies.

"This is where most of life support is housed," said Antara, fiddling with a panel next to the door. "Bulkheads closed off this area during the battle, and after we restored atmosphere we've kept the doors sealed as a precautionary measure against leaks." With a groan, the door pulled open a few inches, dented metal grinding against the floor. Antara pulled it open halfway and entered.

The room was severely damaged. Plasma fire, Spock judged, looking at the charred walls. Antara gestured to the only functional monitor, which had been plugged into the environmental controls. "Air recycling is operating at 70% efficiency," she read, roughly translating the Klingon, "more than enough for only seventeen people." She pulled a panel off the wall, to reveal parts of the replicator system. The tubing had been badly singed, and in places it had been neatly replaced with what Spock thought might be disruptor coolant cables. She pointed to a larger unit jerry-rigged into the replicator. "We took this power unit from one of the torpedo launchers. It's running both the water recycling system and the object synthesizer. Unfortunately I think it requires a lot more power than the original, so if main power goes out we'll loose both food and water."

Spock nodded. Torpedo launcher power units weren't designed for continuous use. "Did you perform these repairs yourself?"

"No, I think it was mostly Jaylen and Klarissa. Would you like to speak with them?"

"No. You are sufficiently knowledgeable about the repairs."

She shook her head and returned the panel. "I've been trying to manage our resources. The weapons systems have been a good source of parts, but the ship was damaged pretty badly."

"This system is currently operational. Was there some point at which it was not?"

"Yes," said Antara, her eyes unfocused. "There were a few hours when I thought we would run out of oxygen. Anything else about life support?"

"This is sufficient."

"Alright. The fission reactor is next."

They made their way to main engineering. The warp reactor stood silent and dark; four crewmembers were gathered around it, patiently translating diagnostics out of Klingon.

"The problem is up here," she said, climbing into a jerry tube.

They got to the primary EPS junction, where the plasma from the impulse reactor feeds into the impulse engines. Antara brought up some data on a nearby console. "To restore propulsion, the plasma from the fission reactor should channel into the ion thruster here. However the magnetic containment on the plasma tubes was destroyed. We had to cut off plasma starting from here, and we lost a lot of plasma tubing."

"Can you scavenge tubing from elsewhere?"

"Oh yes. We've started. But it's slow work."

"Indeed," said Spock. "And the Klingon attack? Tell me more."

"We live on a desert planet," she said. "Life exists exclusively around oases. The Klingons bombed every one of these areas, trying to eliminate a creature we call the montomo. They call them the yIHmey. Do you know of this creature?"

"No, I do not."

"At the time of our departure, it seemed that the Klingons had succeeded in hunting the montomo to extinction. Which brings me to the reason for my second request of your captain. Our planet's atmosphere contains tri-conin toxins. The montomo are on the lowest rung of the animal food chain of our planet, and provide enzymes that allow all other life to break down tri-conin toxins. For years, we have been working on synthesizing the enzymes, but have met with little success. Without the montomo, all life on our planet will die in just a few years."

"You wish for the Enterprise to assist you in synthesizing these enzymes."

"That's right."

"It is unlikely that assisting you in this research would be permitted by our laws. However if you have documented the task in more detail I will present the problem to the Captain."

Antara returned to console and began accessing the ship's database. "We've prepared some files on the topic, in the hopes that someone might respond to our distress call." She flipped through a few of the pages. "A description of tri-conin, an overview of the proteins involved in its degradation, some information about montomo, their habitats…"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Return to the previous page, if you would…"

"The montomo page?" She clicked back.

Text scrolled on the left, while images of the creature and diagrams of its relevant organs were displayed on the right. Spock eyed the image of the montomo with great interest.

"Do you recognize it?" Antara asked, tracing his gaze.

"Yes," said Spock. It was obvious; he should have seen it before…

"Fascinating."


	3. Chapter 3

Spock displayed the image on the conference room view screen. The reaction was immediate.

"Tribbles, Spock? Tribbles?"

"Damnit, Jim! Those lilly-livered, hard-hearted, half-whit hooligans—"

"Vith outside interference of zis scope eet eez our duty to protect zee people of zee tribbles' homevorld, in honor of zee tribbles' memory!"

"I canna believe it! Only a species born in the heart of hell itself could hunt such furry, innocent, cuddly, soothing little creatures…"

Spock took inventory of the officers surrounding him. The Doctor was halfway to standing, a scowl crumpling his eyebrows. Jim was glowering at the picture, rebellion in his eyes. Scotty and Chekov were both in the midst of reminiscing about tribbles, sadness written on their countenance. "Gentlemen, please. Despite any personal feelings you may have on the subject it is imperative that you focus on the task at hand."

"That's right, Mr. Spock," said the Captain. "We're going to tow that ball of Klingon garbage back to Iota Geminorum IV, and on the way we're going to solve their little enzyme problem. Bones?"

"If I may point out-"

"Absolutely, Jim." McCoy glared at the Vulcan. "I'll just get these figures down to Mss. Chapel and we'll be right on it."

Spock finally managed to slip in. "That might be premature."

"I don't care what you say Spock, an atrocity has been committed here. Committed by a warp-capable civilization. The Prime Directive doesn't apply."

"Starfleet may not agree with you, Captain."

"You cold-blooded, heartless…"

"Bones-"

"Doctor, please. There are options that do not violate the Prime Directive, should it apply, and still result in the continuing existence of both the Dronkolos and their home world. It would be illogical not to pursue these options."

The officers exchanged looks. "Let's hear it."

"First, we cannot be certain that all of the tribbles have been exterminated."

"But zee Klingons vere satisfied enough to leave."

"Yes, Mr. Chekov. However, Klingons are not known for thoroughness. I would recommend that we make a full scan of the planet before providing the Dronkolos with a solution to their tri-conin problem."

"Seems logical, Mr. Spock," said Kirk. "We'll go to Iota Geminorum IV directly." He turned to McCoy. "You should still begin looking into synthesizing these enzymes." McCoy nodded.

"And the Dronkolos, Missta Spock?" asked Scotty.

"As I've mentioned, they are highly intelligent and resourceful. It's possible they may be able to repair the ship themselves."

McCoy cocked his head. "They wouldn't have put out a distress call if they weren't in trouble."

"Indeed," Spock said. "They previously faced the problem of repairing a broken ship with no reference as to how a functional ship should operate." He raised an eyebrow at the Captain. "May I remind you that the Bird of Prey's sensors are operational?"

Kirk grinned at Spock. "Violating the Prime Directive by allowing ourselves to be scanned? Surely not!"

With his most emotionless voice, Spock said, "their weapons systems have been dismantled. It would be a waste of power to raise our shields."

Bones assumed his most serious face, "it's only logical," he said, elbowing the Captain.

Kirk was unable to hide his grin. "Agreed." With a final glance toward the diagram of a tribble's digestive track, he ended the meeting. "Anything else? Alright. Dismissed."

The turbolift doors swished open. Kirk and Spock walked toward their stations.

"Uhura, get me Miss Scolash,"

"Channel open sir," Uhura said.

"Captain," Antara's voice sounded slightly garbled over the transmission. "Has Spock made his report?"

"He has. The first thing I'm going to do is take the Enterprise to your home planet and scan carefully for tribbles- or, sorry, er… montomo."

"I'm afraid the possibility of finding one alive is slim- the Klingons must have done such a scan before departing."

"True, but we are probably more patient than the Klingons. Hopefully, this will allow us to find a montomo where the Klingons missed one, despite the fact that their sensors are equal to ours. Why," Kirk continued, throwing an amused look at Spock, "the sensors on your ship could provide your crew with as much useful information as our sensors can provide to mine."

Kirk could practically hear Scolash thinking in the pause that followed. "We will look into the possibility, Captian."

"A wonderful idea!" Kirk said cheerfully. "The Enterprise will be around for another hour or so. Kirk out."

Kirk perched on his chair. "Mr. Sulu, lower shields."

"Lowering shields."

"Mr. Spock, will our own scans interfere with theirs?"

"I will keep ours to a minimum, Captain."

Kirk sat back in this chair. He picked up his PADD. They still had fifty-nine minutes. He opened a new document and stared at the blank screen. The report for this incident would need to be very carefully worded; he'd better get started while Spock's reasoning was fresh in his mind. On the other hand… if the scans weren't enough, writing the report now would be a waste. He frowned. Fifty-eight minutes.

"Have they scanned us yet?"

"They have not."

Kirk drummed his fingers on the PADD.

"Have they powered sensors?"

"I will keep you apprised of their actions, Captain."

Kirk finally decided to read through the database entry on tribbles. He was halfway through a good anecdote about an andorian ambassador and a shipping container full of tibbles when-

"They've powered sensors."

Kirk nodded and glanced at the time. Forty-eight minutes left. He went back to reading.

"They're scanning us." Forty-four minutes. "Somewhat low-intensity. And now again, more properly focused."

As Spock narrated the Bird of Prey's scans, Kirk tried to decide if it would be enough. They took a full scan of the ship, and then more detailed scans of the EPS grid. With one minute left of the time Kirk had given them, the last scan finished, and the Bird of Prey went silent.

"Well, seems like they got everything." Kirk said, standing. "Mr. Sulu, take us to Iota Geminorum IV."

"Aye sir. E.T.A. twelve minutes."

Iota Geminorum IV was a harsh planet- that much was clear even from orbit. The bright orange sphere stood out in sharp contrast against the darkness of space behind it. There was not an ice cap, not an ocean, not even a weather system to break its continuous surface of dry, dusty desert. As unvaried as the planet seemed, it took only a scan for traces of radioactivity to reveal the chaos the Klingons had caused.

Spock was frowning into his scanner as the Enterprise entered standard orbit around Dronkolo.

"Something worrying you, Mr. Spock?"

"It is not in my nature to 'worry,' Captain," Spock said. "Beginning scans. They will be complete in fourteen hours."

Kirk waited for the scan of the first oasis to complete and decided to check in with the Doctor. He jabbed the appropriate button. "Bones! How are those enzymes coming along?"

"Not good." McCoy replied, his subdued voice all Kirk needed to understand the extent of the problem. "I've started some simulations; it's all in my log. But for all our technology, we're no more capable of synthesizing these compounds than the Dronkolos. I'm sorry Jim."

"Keep me apprised."

Two oasis had been scanned and no tribble yet. Krik waited, watching the results slowly scroll up the screen. For once, he didn't even fidget.


	4. Chapter 4

The novelty of the tribble search had word off some hours ago, and the atmosphere on the bridge had changed from anxious suspense to disappointment. Chekov was slouching again; Sulu was aimlessly checking over pre-programed tactical maneuvers to keep his hands busy. They had scanned the planet top to bottom, and as the final scans from the south pole came in negative the result was clear: tribbles had been eradicated.

The computer gave a satisfied beep and displayed its unsatisfying results. Kirk sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Spock was running some more scans.

"Bones, come up to the bridge please."

"On my way."

A sensor image came up on the view screen with a single red dot, pulsating faintly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "We seem to have found a tribble, Captain."

"But Mistah Spock! I could have svorn zhat ve just scanned zat spot!"

More information was coming in; the tribble's biosign was faint, but the biosigns of humanoid Dronkolos approaching it were not. There were indications of underground structures in the area, where the Dronkolos may well have taken shelter during the bombing.

"I noticed some thermal reflection off of the silica as we arrived, especially near the equator. I had to re-calibrate the sensors and scan those oases again."

The turbolift doors opened and McCoy entered the bridge, a smile lighting up his face as he noticed the tribble's biosign. "Wouldya look at that."

"Keep monitoring." Kirk decided. "We'll wait for there to be a couple hundred of them."

"Don't suppose when they're doing well we could beam one up, have a little pettin' zoo?" the Doctor joked.

"It would be most inconsiderate of us to deprive the Dronkolos of even a single tribble; they need every mutation's worth of genetic diversity they can get to properly repopulate the species."

"I was only joking Mr. Spock," McCoy grinned. "You can always hope. They are awfully cute."

"You remember what happened last time we had them aboard?"

"Yeah," McCoy said, crossing his arms. "Maybe they're best left in their native environment. At least I won't need to dabble in molecular simulations anymore, always hate doin that."

"Captain," Uhura interrupted. "I'm receiving a transmission. It's from the Bird of Prey."

"Let's hear it."

The Scolash's recorded message took the place of the tribble on the view screen.

"Enterprise, I have good news for you. Our systems are also no longer in critical condition, and it may take time, but I believe we will eventually make our way back home. Thank you for your help. Perhaps in a century our species will meet again. Scolash out."

"Well," said Bones with his signature grin, "Spock's little suggestions seem to have taken care of both problems. Who woulda thought?"

"I merely pointed out the obvious."

"I can't believe the luck of these people- to figure out how to fix their ship that fast."

"The odds are exceedingly slim. Eight million, eight-hundred-"

"Spock… after one's home planet is destroyed quite this badly they're due for some luck."

"That is not how it works, Captain," Spock said, puzzled by the Captain's appalling understanding of probability.

Kirk and McCoy shared a smile, and Kirk settled comfortable in his chair. "In any case, it seems our work here is done. Mr. Chekov, take us out."

"Aye sir."

* * *

**A/N**: Tada! I hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!


End file.
